Anatomy of a Relationship
by felinefemme
Summary: Touko Masaki's POV on WHR events. Not for the Touko or songfic haters;D
1. Slide

Title: Anatomy of a Relationship

Author: FelineFemme

Rating: R or whatever "Sex and the City"-type episodes would be;p

Summary: Touko Masaki's POV of events during WHR. For those of you who are anti-Touko or songfics, beware! Myohohohoho!

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I wanna wake up where you are

I won't say anything at all

So why don't you slide

And I'll do anything you ever dreamed to be complete

Little pieces of the nothing that fall

Oh may

Put your arms around me

What you feel is what you are

And what you are is beautiful

"Slide" by the Goo Goo Dolls

-----

I'll be honest: At first, it was just about sex.

Amon is convenient, he doesn't ask too much of me nor I of him, which is probably why he didn't refuse me this or any time I've asked, and vice versa. And I'd come to Harry's out of some maudlin sentimentality. I get like that after a breakup, particularly a bad one. And the last one I went out with was bad, some yakuza jerk who was less fun in bed than I thought and more of an abusive thug. Needless to say, I was getting really tired of hiding bruises under long-sleeved sweaters and cakes of foundation.

I seem to be attracted to strong, distant, dangerous types. I wonder why that is.

That's particularly true in Amon's case. But in bed, despite his never-failing habit of using condoms properly, he's great. I don't even have to fake it with him, emotions or relationships or orgasms, which make our dalliances an easy thing to fall into. He would say things with his lips, his hands, even his groin, that he wouldn't dare say with his vocal cords. With his body, he would speak his mind, and, dare I say, even his heart. Or perhaps I'm reading too much into it. Still, I was lonely and drunk (okay, so I ordered more than a sherry later on) and on the rebound, and he happened to catch me at the right time. Or maybe it was a wrong time. Whatever it was, I wasn't arguing.

Was it coincidence that I saw him at Harry's the day Robin moved in? I'm never quite sure when it comes to my father. Out of obligation, I let the new Hunter stay with me, even let my father pay a minimum stipend for her room and board. I suppose throwing a nun (can a Hunter still be a nun?) into some strange hotel might prove a shock, but she wasn't exactly great for empathizing with a broken heart. So off to Harry's I went. And into Amon's bed that night.

Like I said, was it coincidence? Was my father looking out for me in his aloof, twisted way? Or was Amon actually indulging himself in a rare drink, as he does from time to time? I'd ask, but there's so many months, years, of words unspoken between us that it doesn't occur to me to ask. The thought is in the back of my mind, even as we tangle, then throw off the sheets with our mind-blowing lovemaking. All I can tell from his body language (and my goodness, what a body!), is that he'd had a hard day. I didn't mind, as long as his hardness extended beyond that expressionless face of his.

Episode 2: "Addicted to Power"


	2. My Favorite Mistake

Chapter 2: My Favorite Mistake

Now here comes your secret lover

She'll be unlike any other

Until your guilt goes up in flames

Did you know when you go it's the perfect ending

To the bad day I'd gotten used to spending

When you go, all I know is you're my favorite mistake

Well, maybe nothing lasts forever

Even when you stay together

I don't need forever after, but it's your laughter won't let me go

So I'm holding on this way

Did you know, could you tell you were the only one

That I ever loved?

Now everything's so wrong

Did you see me walking by, did it ever make you cry?

"My Favorite Mistake" by Sheryl Crow

-----

He's like a bad habit I just can't shake.

At least, that's what it seems like. After yet another night of incredible, unspeakable sex, he drops me off at my apartment. I tease him, telling him I'd invite him upstairs, but that would mean he'd run into people, or, God forbid, Robin, and that would mean our relationship would be public. The horror. So I let him leave, his privacy, if not honor, intact. Silly, stupid man. And silly, stupid me, for letting him, letting us, continue in this way.

So I walked upstairs, holding my pre-coital clothes crammed in an overnight bag, and see the lights are on. I feel bad that my charge, such as she is, might still be awake at this late hour. I call out, but no one answers. Now I'm worried. It isn't until I come across her cleaning the bathroom that I put two and two together. I would have solved the mini-mystery earlier, except that Amon's body does strange things to my mind, like shut it down temporarily. I smile, but feel guilty that this girl feels obligated to clean. Then she corrects me, telling me that even though she dislikes it, cleaning is a habit from her years at the convent.

I've never been religious, but I know Amon is my habit. I can't say I dislike it, either, but I know it's unhealthy. And yet, like a drug, Amon is something I can't get enough of. I don't mind this addiction, since it doesn't interfere with my business, nor with his work, and it solves the problems of venting some serious sexual frustration without going over to Ginza or the like. I'm on the pill and Amon's dedicated to using a condom, so I'm not too worried about side effects. I know, should there be any, like disease, or worse, a child, I'd deal with it.

Like I said, he's not the first dangerous man I've come across, and I'm used to getting myself out of trouble. I may not have powers like Robin, but I'm no helpless damsel in distress. I'm a successful business, and I work the boardroom like Amon works my body, with contacts all over Tokyo and beyond. Worse comes to worst, there's always my father, but his favors come with strings attached or unforeseen consequences. I've only relied on him once, and that was enough to make me believe that dealing with the yakuza was less threatening. Not by much, mind you, but enough.

Episode 4: "Stubborn Aesthetics"


	3. 3 am

Chapter 3: 3 a.m.

She's gotta little bit of something, God it's better than nothing  
And in her color portrait world she believes that she's got it all  
She swears the moon don't hang quite as high as it used to  
She only sleeps when it's raining  
And she screams and her voice is strained

She says baby, it's 3 a.m., I must be lonely  
Yeah she says baby, I can't help but be scared of it all sometimes  
And the rain's gonna wash away, I believe this

She believes that life is made up of all that is used to  
And the clock on the wall has been stuck at 3 for days and days  
She thinks that happiness it a mat that sit on her doorway  
Oh but outside it stopped raining

"3 a.m." by Matchbox 20

It's been three days, and I miss him. So I leave a message for him to meet me at Harry's tonight, when he's free. Not like there's a lack of action at work, the office ladies are making noises about pay raises, and the corporate heads (all male, of course) are making noises about layoffs during this tight economy. And I'm stuck in the middle, because I'm a woman. A successful, driven woman, yes, but a woman nonetheless, which makes the OL think I'm on their side, and the heads nervous that I might be on the OL's side. I hate when office politics gets in the way of good business, and lately, it has been.

When I come home for a quick change of clothes, I see it's a dark apartment devoid of Robin's fancy boots, and I'm giving up, at least for now. Robin is sort of like my thermometer, if she's out late working, then Amon's working harder. And that means no time for us. Well, if there is an "us."

So I do the wimpy thing and leave another message. I try to be brief and businesslike, the way I'd like to come across in work and personal life, but even to my ears, I sound like a lovelorn, desperate woman. Damn. Oh well. It's not like he cares one way or the other how I sound like, the important thing is that I don't blow his cover and reveal how all-too-human he is. Well, there's something I'd like to blow, but it isn't about to happen anytime soon.

So I sigh, flip on the lights, wander over to the kitchen and grab a can of beer. Then I flop down on the couch and channel surf, but I don't pay attention to anything on the TV. I try to do the admirable thing and figure out some solutions for the tension at work, but all I can think of is Amon, and how much I want him here. How much I want him, period.

Maybe we started backwards. Maybe that's the problem. If we'd met like normal people, gone through the usual flirting and semi-courtship and falling in like, or lust, then it would be okay. Maybe I wouldn't miss him so much. Or maybe it wouldn't make much of a difference, since he doesn't talk enough for any sort of getting-to-know-you phase to be even remotely reasonable. I know enough about him, and he knows enough about me. That's all that matters.

I find I've reached the last of my beer, and sigh again. Idiot. I can't tell whether I'm talking about him or myself, and don't bother to figure it out. I walk back into the kitchen to grab another beer, determined to anesthetize myself with alcohol and bad TV for the rest of the night. It's worked before, which is the sad part, so I flop back on the couch, determined to be asleep by the time Robin comes home.

Episode 5: "Smells like wandering spirit"


	4. Thank You

Chapter 4: Thank you

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all

The morning rain clouds up my window and I can't see at all

And even if I could it'd all be grey, but your picture on my wall

It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad….

Push the door, I'm home at last and I'm soaking through and through

Then you handed me a towel and all I see is you

Even if my house falls down now, I wouldn't have a clue

Because you're near me

"Thank You" by Dido

-----

I didn't mean to snap at the girl, it's just that, unlike most of the people she hangs around, I'm not used to seeing people using their powers positively. I have to bite my tongue, really, because not only is Robin just a girl, but she's a nun, too. Still, I'm just glad she's got a good grip on her powers, or she might burn the apartment down. I know that was one of my father's concerns when he brought up the idea of me hosting the girl, but I told him I'd have a fire extinguisher handy. He'd only sighed, but I guess he felt relieved that I wouldn't be freaking out. Still, I don't mind if she uses her Craft at work, it's just unnerving to see it at home, and after a long day at work, too.

But I wasn't the only one who'd had a long day. Apparently, she'd ruffled a few feathers at work, or she wouldn't be looking like a lost, drenched puppy in her dripping gothic gown. And she's so honest and straightforward, I have to remind myself that despite her line of work, she's still a girl. An innocent, really, compared to some of her coworkers, or even the general populace here. I can't remember the last time I was that innocent. Certainly not in high school, and certainly not at Robin's age. So I try to cheer her up, bring her emotions to the fore, since it seems she's more likely to develop healthy relations than, say, Amon. She seems to take to it all right, charging back out into that horrible downpour.

I sigh. Was I ever that idealistic? I smile, shaking my head. Perhaps when I was a child, but my parents' divorce quickly shattered any notions of fairy tales coming true. Love didn't last forever, and, as I learned from my mother, you can't depend on kindly spirits or rich royalty to save you. All you can do is work hard, make realistic goals, and work harder. If you're lucky, and that's a big if, you might settle down with someone to share your bed on lonely nights. If not, well, good luck in divorce court.

Later that night, however, I woke up to a strange sound, only to realize it was Robin. She'd crashed on the couch again, and I bit back a sigh. She was considerate enough to remember to take off her shoes, but she was still holding an umbrella as she lay on the couch, covered by her coat. I remove the umbrella, putting it out in the small foyer, and cover her with her blanket. It still amazes me that they have teens, children, really, working such punishing hours. And all to keep the rest of Japan unknowing, sleeping soundly in their beds. As I should be. Now I sigh, and stumble to my bed, which has gotten cold with the chill weather.

The next day, as I leave to catch the bus home, a hand grabs my arm. I'm about to snap, when I realize who it is, and my mouth, unfortunately, hangs open as if I'm slow of thinking.

Clad in his usual trench coat and dark gothic clothes, he looks sexy rather than sodden, his hair hiding part of his face as if rain suited him. Perhaps it does. Amon, drat the man, looks as if he's expected that reaction, and says in his usual indifferent tone as he lets go of my arm, "Would you like to take a walk?"

I blink, and the small movement has jogged the blood flow back to my brain and breath back into my lungs. "All right," I say as calmly as possible, knowing how he hates a scene. Or any display of affection, but still, the suggestion takes me by surprise. I realize he has no umbrella, and, after brushing his shoulders free of stray raindrops, hold my red umbrella over him.

He puts up with my fussing, and, without actually touching me, leads me through a park. I wonder why he's allowing us to be seen in public together, but I suppose he knows his coworkers won't be around. I take what I can get, which is kinda sad, but walk through the city with him, as we carry on a semblance of a romantic stroll through the pouring rain. Funny, how I barely notice the rain, despite bitterly complaining about it earlier. As we approach his apartment, I shiver involuntarily, and he puts an arm around me, as if it's the most natural thing in the world. I almost gape at him again, but I'm not jinxing my luck. Maybe this last case has shaken some semblance of sentimentality in him.

As his hand twines through my hair, I look up at him. "Amon," I say in a hoarse voice. He kisses me before I can say anything else, and I find we're in his apartment.

Usually, at this point, we'd be shedding our clothes as if they were on fire, but he's taking his sweet time, kissing me slowly. By the time we reach his bedroom, we're still fully clothed. I find his actions are deliberate, as if designed to drive me mad, and I groan. A ghost of a smile crosses his face, but for some reason, I'm starting to enjoy this new, gentler side of him. Likewise, our lovemaking is actually lovemaking, an indulgent, langorous, even sweet declaration, rather than the wild, impassioned fury that shakes his bed and tests the soundproofed walls. When we're done, I don't know what to say to an experience I've only felt watching a beautiful dance performance, but place a hand on his face, stroking the unshaved edge of his jaw.

"Thank you," he says in a low voice, turning his head and kissing my hand.

Then his communicator rings, and his answers in a brisk tone, as if he hadn't been making love to me all afternoon. He glances at me, and I could almost swear there's a glimmer of regret in his dark, dark eyes. But he doesn't say anything, merely brushes my shoulder with his lips before heading for a quick shower. A few minutes later, he steps out, fully dressed and with no expression on his face as he looks down at me wearing only his blanket.

"I'll lock up," I say, holding the blanket to my chest.

He nods, and opens his mouth as if to say something. He seems to think better of it, turns on his heel, and leaves.

"There goes my paramour," I mutter, rolling my eyes before heading off to his shower. Still, there's a smile on my face in spite of his abrupt departure. It seems he's back to his old self, the businesslike Amon I know and, oddly enough, trust more than the chevalier I just slept with.

Episode 6: "Raindrops"


	5. I Shall Believe

Chapter 5: I Shall Believe

Come to me now

And lay your hands over me

Even if it's a lie

Say it will be all right

And I shall believe

I'm broken in two

And I know you're on to me

That I only come home

When I'm so all alone

But I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way

You think it oughta be

It seems like every time I try to make it right

It all comes down on me

Please say, honestly, you won't give up on me

And I shall believe

I shall believe

"I Shall Believe" by Sheryl Crow

-----

"Don't be silly." Simple, right?

It's stupid, I can't even look her in the face as I lie to her. I'm a grown woman, she's only a girl! I've lied my way through tougher business transactions than this without batting an eye! And yet, I don't betray Amon's faith, I brush off her question lightly and tell Robin it's nothing. But… am I really lying to her? Is it all really nothing?

And yet, as she answers her communicator and talks to Amon, I can't help but listen in. I know it's adolescent, wanting to hear even a tinny version of his deadpan voice, but I do. Robin smiles wanly, hating to miss even the bare minimum of the fuel I call coffee, and heads out the door.

I slump against the counter, the charade over. I hate sneaking around. I don't mind being subtle, in fact, that's one of my strong points, but hiding our relationship from even Robin, I admit, is pretty sad. It's not like we're celebrities or anything, or even that we're coworkers. I hate to say it, but I know what it is: he's ashamed. Maybe not of me, but ashamed that he has the normal human capacity to feel, to have emotions, perhaps even to love. Well, okay, maybe not so far as "love," but perhaps a perverse fondness. Lust. Like? Whatever it is, I don't care. But he cares. He cares about the wrong thing.

And the reason why I still want to be with him? Maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment. What's the word, ah, "masochist." Yeah, that's it. Or I just don't know how to be in a normal relationship, period. He snaps his fingers, and, like a puppy, I come. No, that's not the right analogy, I've never been frisky or naïve like a puppy with men. No, like a moth to a flame, I know he will be the death of me, but still, I can't help but fly close to the flames. And his flames aren't hot, which would normally warn me off, but ice cold, so cold it burns.

I shiver, and then glance at the clock. Oh no, I'm about to be late for my own job. Damn it.

I dial for a taxi, even though it will cost me dearly, and I make it in time to hear my supervisor chew out someone for inadequate funding for a particular project. I can't believe I was this close to letting some silly adolescent-like daydream interfere with my job. Soon, I'm caught up in another business deal that takes up all my time and attention, and I don't realize how many days it's been since I've thought about or seen Amon.

It's only when my cell chirps that I see a familiar number sequence and my heart, I'm sorry to say, leaps. "Yes?" I ask, hoping I don't sound as breathless as I feel.

He picks me up at a halfway point between his location and my job, and I meet him there, wondering why I feel like even our seemingly innocuous meetings have a cloak-and-dagger aspect to them. I step into his car, looking calmly out the window, and we wind up at his place. It isn't long before our clothes are in a heap on the floor once the lock clicks shut, and I know the gentle lovemaking a few days prior was a fluke. He half-carries me to the bedroom, but my body is aching for him, and we don't quite make it to the bed before I lose control. Savagely, he throws me on the bed, and I almost giggle at the intense look he gives me along with his Neanderthal-like behavior, before his talented hands and mouth take over my bare body.

Automatically, I grab at his well-muscled back, unfortunately hidden by all those layers of dramatic black clothes he's prone to wear. A lusty scream wrenches itself from my throat, and he covers my mouth with his possessively. Any coherent thoughts flee my mind as we spiral into the madness that only our joining bodies can make sense of.

Episode 7: "Simple Mind"


	6. One

Chapter 6: One

Did I disappoint you

Or leave a bad taste in your mouth?

You act like you never had love

And you want me to go without

Well, it's too late tonight

To drag the past out into the light

We're one but we're not the same

We get to carry each other, carry each other…

You say love is a temple

Love a higher law

Love is a temple

Love the higher law

You ask me to enter, but then you make me crawl

And I can't be holding on to what you got

When all you got is hurt

"One" by U2

-----

I lay across the couch, still in my work clothes, staring into my empty apartment. I'm tired, but I'm not sure why. I had a great day at work, and did a little flirting on the side with a former coworker. A great day. On the other hand, there's the person I'm talking with, and I think I know why I'm so tired. "You haven't changed," I tell him over the phone, a small smile on my lips, "still asking me where all of a sudden."

His voice is disturbingly clear over my connection, as if he's in the living room with me. "I'm sorry," he says, as if he doesn't mean it.

I frown, startled by his admission. "That's strange," I say lightheartedly, as if he just didn't do the impossible and apologize. Amon never admits mistakes, he never shows emotion, he'll never change. Or so I'd always thought.

"I haven't slept because of this case," he goes on, as if he hasn't said something completely out of the ordinary, "a case from two years back. While I should be thinking of this case, instead I'm thinking of you."

I almost drop the phone. Long ago, this would've sent a thrill through my heart, but instead, it sends a shudder of fear. I want to ask what's wrong, but instead, I say calmly, even teasingly, "It's odd, you never say things like that."

"We shouldn't see each other again," he finally says.

I close my eyes. So it's come to this, I think. Finally. "I wondered when you would say that," I say after a beat, thankful I'm already lying down. Not that I'd fall over from anything this man says, it's just nice to know I don't have to be on my feet. "I have a question," I say, my voice still strangely calm, as if I'm standing away from the scene. As if I'm him, and I'm not sure whether that disturbs me or him more.

"What is it?" he asks, as if we hadn't just broken up. As if we hadn't spent the last how many months in bed together. As if we were complete strangers. The barely perceptible strain in his voice tells me he's not alone, and I steel myself to keep my volume down. Robin, I think, and then I know. I know the nail in the coffin isn't me, but her.

The question I want to ask is, Are you really such an unfeeling prick? Do you have a heart in that body of yours, or is it made of stone like the rest of you? Why are you dumping me for a teen, you pedophile? None of them will give me the answers I want, and he will never lie to me. That's the worst kind of answer sometimes, the truth. Finally, I ask in an admirably calm, even concerned tone, "Do you, are you all right?"

He seems startled, but answers after a beat, "I'm fine."

I nod, as if he can see. "I see," I say instead. I know she's still there, perhaps standing politely away so as not to hear the conversation. He is a careful man, but he was never this careful with me. Or caring with me.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he clears his throat. "I," he pauses, "I'm sorry." And he hangs up.

"I believe you are," I say softly to the dead connection before turning my phone off.

Then I throw it across the room, not caring that the neighbors should hear or if the phone should break. I should've known. I should've known his fear of emotions would prevail, as usual. I should've known that his work would come between us. That, perhaps, even Robin would come between us. I never would've thought -- but she's his coworker, she sees him more than I do. And they have something in common that I don't -- their taste in dramatic dark clothes. Okay, I admit, it hurts that he chooses her, a slip of a girl, over me. He knows me intimately, but he's never touched her. I'm fairly sure of that, since she would behave much differently, having known a man that way. I know I changed after my first time.

The irony that I lost to a nun isn't wasted on me. I exhale loudly, pulling my long-sleeve top away from my chest. Because of my work situation, I can hang out with the girls, but I don't feel comfortable sharing my love woes with them. The office ladies being what they are, versus my status, they'd probably say I should be unlucky in love, if not in business. Dammit. It's not the first time my lack of close friends sucks, but I don't wallow.

Instead, I pull out a business card from my purse and start dialing from my miraculously unharmed phone. He picks up after the second ring, and I find myself smiling when he answers. "Hi, Seiichi? This is Touko." After a few pleasantries, I end up asking him to reacquaint ourselves at a bar. Pulling out a receipt from my purse, I scribble down the bar he proposes, and after another brief round of flirting, I hang up. Even if it doesn't work out with my former coworker, at least I'll get a decent drink, and smile a little. I may be alone, but I don't have to be lonely.

Episode 10: "Separate Lives"


	7. Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

Thanks for the feedback, Hofftailing! Good to know I strike a chord somewhere;D

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Chapter 7: Fumbling Towards Ecstasy

All the fear has left me now, I'm not frightened anymore.

It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh.

It's my mouth that pushes out this breath

and if I shed a tear I won't cage it.

I won't fear love and if I feel a rage I won't deny it.

I won't fear love.

--"Fumbling Towards Ecstasy" by Sarah McLachlan

-----

I was so happy.

Not only did I secure a great contract with a new client, but I was going steady with a former coworker. Seiichi Kaneda was doing great at his present company, and I was happy for another's success, for once. After that initial bar date, which ended on more of a hilarious note than I would've thought, plus a couple of coffee talks and city walks, he asked to have dinner with me. It was the first time I was going out with a guy who didn't demand sex on the first date, wasn't married, or abusive, or a closet gay. I'm done with dangerous men, I told myself, I deserve to be with a nice, decent guy, for once. We made arrangements to meet at a classy, but not too expensive, restaurant. My coworkers buzzed when he left, and for once, I didn't mind the office gossip. I was too happy. I hadn't felt this way for ages.

Floating on a cloud, I came home, intending to take a quick shower, then throw on something dressy but nice, and enjoy the company of a man who didn't take me for granted or act as if our relationship should be kept out of sight. Even Robin seemed to think Seiichi was okay the couple of times he stopped by, he even got her to smile, which I thought was pretty sweet. I know I haven't seen her too often, mostly my fault, but even I've noticed how gloomy she's been lately. I'm not sure if her moodiness is from work or pining over Amon, and being that she's so sensitive, I didn't want to pry too much. Besides, it's not like I could offer her advice about her job, nor about Amon, for that matter. I doubt there's a book or talk show host willing to tackle witch hunting, much less Amon.

Still, I was feeling so good, I wanted even Robin to feel this kind of happiness. Seiichi should be the model for men all women should aspire to date. Or perhaps that's just me. Then again, nobody else has made me feel that comfortable, that companiable, that loved, just by being with them. Did I say "loved"? I guess I did. And I don't care. In fact, I'd be willing to change my no-commitment stance just for him. Even though I've known him for a while, professionally as well as personally, I feel I could never stop learning about him, learning what he likes, what he's thinking about, small stuff, big stuff, it doesn't matter. Yeah, I could see myself spending a lot more time with Seiichi in a very nonprofessional way. All this ran through my brain, so much so that I didn't notice the door was unlocked when I came in. I should've noticed. I should've known better.

It wasn't until I'd rounded the corner, a silly, stupid smile on my face, that a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me, and I found myself surrounded by a small group of men in paramilitary uniforms, their faces hidden by goggles, helmets, and gas masks. As I struggled, a gloved hand shoved a rag soaked in strong chemicals over my mouth. I choked, then tried not to breathe, but it was no use. The world swam before my eyes, and I felt myself growing heavy, even as my mind screamed, DADDY!

When I awoke, I was tied to the lamp stand, my mouth taped shut with masking tape. I seemed to be in the middle of a sandbox, and I blinked, struggling to clear my eyes. Circles, I thought to myself, someone made circles of sand in my apartment. How dare they make a mess in my house? I glare, and there's a chuckle from one of the men.

"She's awake," he tells the others, and it's too late to feign sleep. He steps forward, but not close enough to mess up the circles. His face is level with mine, and I want to curse him, spit at him. He seems to get the point, and chuckles again. "You're a feisty little lady, aren't you?" he says, and I hate the condescension in his voice. "Just remember, if you mess up that pattern," he waves at the circles, "the witch will kill you. So stay still like a good girl."

A shudder works its way from the base of my neck to the bottom of my spine, and I force myself not to flail wildly. Witch? What witch? Where's my father? Doesn't he know what's going on? What's happening to me? Before my morbid imagination can fill in the blanks, the lights are turned off, and the masking tape muffles my whimper.

It isn't long before I hear the front door open. Please, please let it be Amon, I think wildly, or even Robin. I don't care, as long as they can get me out of here! The lights flicker on, and I see Robin step into the room. Her wide green eyes take in the situation, and as soon as she flips the lights off again, the fireworks begin.

And I'm not exaggerating when I say "fireworks." The paramilitary guys are shooting from behind, I'm guessing from my patio, and Robin does her thing with fire. However, it seems the gunmen are doing better with their bullets than she is with her power, since it appears like her flames stop just short of me. Maybe she's holding back because I'm in the way.

Oh no, I think, Robin's the witch they're talking about. But if she is, then she'd be frying me to a crisp, not trying to defend herself. Then I remember what that soldier guy said. The circles are protecting me from her. Strangely enough, I don't believe that bastard, since the bullets are flying too close to my ears and I'm in more danger of getting shot than burned. Being right in the middle of a firefight, literally a sitting duck, wasn't the plan for the evening.

Even as the thought goes through my head, I remember my date. Oh no, I think, he's going to think I stood him up! And following that vapid thought, a bullet goes through my brain, another one hitting my shoulder, and my body reflexively convulses on the floor. No, I want to scream, I can't die! I can't go out like this! The pain is so unbearable, I want to throw myself into another hail of bullets just to stop hurting so badly. Father! I vainly try to call out. Amon!

As I fade out of consciousness for the second time in so many hours, the darkness swallowing my sight, I dimly hear more bullets, more people coming in. I hear a woman calling for an ambulance, and then I don't hear anything. I don't feel anything, either, and for that, I am profoundly grateful.

Episode 14: "Loaded Guns"


	8. Epilogue

Thanks for the feedback, YellowDancer21! Now I know how to end this thing;-

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Epilogue: Sweet surrender

It doesn't mean much, it doesn't mean anything at all,

The life I left behind me is a cold room,

I've crossed the last line from where I can't return

Where every step I took in faith betrayed me

And led me from my home and

Sweet, sweet surrender is all that I have to give

"Sweet Surrender" by Sarah McLachlan

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I distantly hear the orderlies moving my bed to another room, perhaps another ward altogether. I think I hear Amon, but I'm not sure. I know someone sounding very much like him said, "I'm sorry." It would be surprising if I did, since he rarely admits to making mistakes, or, worse yet, showing any kind of emotion.

I know I heard my father out there, too. I want to tell him it's okay, I'm okay, I don't feel a thing. But I can't. If I did, I'm sure I would hurt like hell, and my father wouldn't want to talk to me. Strange, isn't it, how me being immobile would make him express any positive feelings, while he never said a thing while I was healthy? That's my father. And, strangely enough, that's Amon, too. Well, he was until right before we broke up. Displaying any kind of emotions or even talking about being distracted wasn't his usual breakup M.O. Definitely strange….

Strange seems to be the order of the day when it comes to my life, and I'm not even a Hunter. I wonder if other family members of law enforcement have such problems. Perhaps. Probably not as strange as those that Hunters have to deal with, I'm sure, unless they're unfortunate enough to run into a witch. I knew there would be dangers, letting my father back into my life, but I didn't realize I would become a casualty. Ignorance and immortality of the young, I suppose. And I always thought that he would protect me. I'm not sure I'm talking about Father or Amon, and at this time, I don't think I could make a distinction.

I know I willingly invited Amon in, as I did so many times before, and likewise, he let me into his life, or at least, a very controlled, boxed in part of his life. How he liked to compartmentalize… I wish I had been the one to break him out of those boxes. I wish a lot of things, actually.

I wish I knew which is a better choice: waking up and facing the world, or staying asleep and letting it all pass by. I honestly wish I knew, because sooner or later, Sleeping Beauty does wake up, and I'll have to figure out whether I want that to happen or not. I'm a fighter, yes, but right now, I'm so damn tired of fighting. I wish someone would fight for me. I know it would be too much to ask of Seiichi, a nice guy, but he barely knows me, but I still wish he would fight for me. Or father. Or someone. I don't care. Someone to fight for me, and someone I could wake up to.

As long as there's no crying. I can't stand crying, not even for happy endings. Tears mean sorrow, and I've had too much of that in my life. Even if I don't deserve it, I want a happy ending. It doesn't have to be Prince Charming and a kingdom, I'd be happy with one good man by my side and a rented apartment. Maybe I shouldn't say "ending," considering the place I'm in. I want happiness. I want the good times to last longer than a couple hours. I want the romance books without the sad bits. I want pleasant coffee breaks with a man I love. I want sleepless nights only when we're making love. I want to feel safe without being bored. I want to live life without worrying about getting shot, or witches, or crazy ex-boyfriends, or any other insanity.

I want to wake up to a fairy tale without thorns. Is that possible? But most of all, I want to know that when I do wake up, someone will be there for me. At this point, I have no idea who will be at my side, other than perhaps a nurse or an orderly. Someone to care for me. That's all. If I knew that much, I wouldn't have to worry about silly things like tears.

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All colors bleed to red

Asleep on the ocean's bed

Drifting in empty seas

For all my days remaining

But would north be true?

Why should I?

Why should I cry for you?

Dark angels follow me

Over a godless sea

Mountains of endless falling,

For all my days remaining,

What would be true?

Sometimes I see your face,

The stars seem to lose their place

Why must I think of you?

Why must I?

Why should I?

Why should I cry for you?

Why would you want me to?

And what would it mean to say,

That, "I loved you in my fashion"?

"Why Should I Cry for You?" by Sting

Episode 15: "Time to Say Goodbye"

THE END


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